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Yahoo
2 days ago
- Business
- Yahoo
Reclusive Country Star, 54, Gushes About Faith Hill: 'Most Kind and Most Generous'
has been a darling of country music since the early 1990s. She appears to have a picture-perfect life with husband and fellow major country star Tim McGraw and their three daughters, Gracie, 28, Maggie, 26, and Audrey, 23. But what might be nice for fans to know is that Hill is just as kind as she appears. On a Mother's Day post about Hill from youngest daughter Audrey, fellow country star Chely Wright, 54, made her true feelings known about Hill — and had nothing but wonderful things to say. "@audreymcgraw, your mom has always been the nicest, sweetest, most kind and most generous person around. This video took me way back in time.❤️," wrote Wright on the undated video of Hill from approximately 1994. Wright was a contemporary of Hill's in the 1990s, charting the hits "Shut Up and Drive," "Just Another Heartache," "It Was," "Single White Female" and "Jezebel," among others. But she was a closeted lesbian and was terrified that if she came out, she would be ostracized in country music. So she had romantic relationships with such country stars as Vince Gill and Brad Paisley, both prior to their current marriages to Amy Grant and Kimberly Williams, respectively. In Wright's memoir, she writes about how in 2005, her friend and fellow country artist John Rich, told her that it wouldn't be OK to come out of the closet because "people don't approve of that deviant behavior" because "it's a sin." Wright eventually came out of the closet publicly in 2010 after she left Nashville for New York City. After she came out, she received a plethora of support from female country stars, including Hill, Mary Chapin Carpenter, LeAnn Rimes, , the band SheDaisy and the late Naomi Judd. Carpenter, Rimes and the sisters of SheDaisy supported her publicly; she told the Huffington Post that Hill, Yearwood and Judd all reached out privately after she came out. She said no male country stars made any moves of support. Either way, Wright left music altogether during the pandemic and is now happily working as the senior vice president of corporate social responsibility and new market growth at the global workplace experience and facilities management company ISS. 'I know firsthand what it feels like to be afraid that you don't fit in at work,' Wright told Us Weekly in a 2025 interview, adding, "I've always enjoyed figuring things out and finding a way to get a win, whether it be for my paper route customers [as a kid] or my country music fans, or the people I've been able to work with in design build and now facilities management. There's a win for everyone. And good business is making sure that your client is glad they spent their money with you. They do it again, and they'd tell their friends. That's it. That's what country music has in common with facilities management."
Yahoo
24-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
How Sirens Upends The Classic Tale of an Assistant's Revenge
The stories differ, but there are two non-negotiables for films and series about bosses and assistants: killer dialogue and juicy plot twists. (Depending on your employment history, you might also count on PTSD.) From All About Eve to The Devil Wears Prada, the fraught relationship between employer and employee—with its potential for betrayal and triumph, vicious one-liners and personal growth—has been catnip for Hollywood. And Netflix limited series Sirens nestles comfortably in that rich tradition. Adapted from her own play by Molly Smith Metzler (Maid), Sirens follows rough-around-the-edges Devon (Meghann Fahy), who shows up at her sister Simone's (Milly Alcock) workplace to confront her—except she finds Simone under the thrall of her boss, the wealthy, enigmatic Michaela (Julianne Moore), a bird-wielding socialite who seems to be one sheath dress away from becoming a cult leader. Sirens riffs on everything from mythology to the socio-economics of marriage, but nowhere is it smarter or more incisive than when Metzler is exploring the vagaries of the personal assistant dynamic between Michaela and Simone. Their unsettling, co-dependent relationship (Michaela snuggles into bed with Simone after an anxious night; they go on runs together every day) is akin to watching a workplace version of Single White Female. 'There's a wonderful tradition of making those relationships really scary,' Metzler says. 'Let's be honest, they are scary because there's economics involved. Michaela and Simone present themselves as the dearest of friends, but when economics enters a relationship, it threads the whole thing with dread, but also with a little bit of fear. Someone has all the power, and it's akin to buying a friend.' And while most films and shows slowly tease out one character's true intentions, Sirens continually upends its narrative with a series of reversals and revelations. Devon, Simone, and Michaela are never quite certain where they stand in relation to one another, and their relationships shift and evolve in unexpected ways over the course of five episodes. Much of the show's success hinges on the ways in which it plays with our expectations. We've seen this story before, or so we think. This is Damages with a dash of Mad Men. But Metzler is precise with how she weaponizes our familiarity against us. 'I'm very drawn to subjects that are not what they seem,' she says. 'When you have a fast judgment about a character and then end up wrong, I love that. And the relationship between Michaela and Simone looks like one thing, but it turns out to be something very different. At the end, I think people will be like, 'Oh wait, it was there the whole time, but I didn't see it.'' Part of that slow tease of the truth is the ways in which Metzler shies away from the usual tropes of female rivalry. Unlike All About Eve, Sirens is not concerned with the idea of youth versus maturity. Nor is Metzler interested in the sexual competition of Working Girl. Instead, Sirens smartly places money at the center of its story. 'All the women in the show have a socioeconomic relationship with each other and with the men,' Metzler says. 'And that's a little bit what I'm making a social commentary about too, that there's a lot of buying in the show.' Sirens also plays with ideas about class and trauma, allowing Simone the luxury of thinking that she can pretend her past never happened. Here again, Metzler is playing on our familiarity with stories revolving around reinvention via the workplace—but in Sirens, that has a much darker edge. 'Desperation is a dangerous currency,' Metzler says. 'Even if you end up in a fortuitous economic position, like working for someone like Michaela, who you are and who you've left behind is still there. You can't select all and delete your past. It's very much about class and trauma and how those things dance together, whether you like it or not.' You Might Also Like 12 Weekend Getaway Spas For Every Type of Occasion 13 Beauty Tools to Up Your At-Home Facial Game
Winnipeg Free Press
07-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Winnipeg Free Press
Movie Review: Dark bromance 'Friendship' hysterically explores modern men's awkward embrace
Craig Waterman is a suburban dad in middle age who favors extremely puffy jackets, yearns to see the new Marvel movie and is so uncool that he lobbies his town to have speed bumps installed. Naturally, he has no friends. That changes one day when a misdirected package arrives in the mail and he trots off to hand deliver it to his new neighbor, Austin Carmichael, who has a '70s vibe — a mustache, soul patch and a neckerchief. He's a TV weatherman and fronts a punk band. Naturally, he has a tight group of male friends. So begins Andrew DeYoung's auspicious debut feature 'Friendship,' which tackles modern masculinity and male loneliness with biting satire and humor, taking detours into horror and the surreal. This image released by A24 shows Tim Robinson, left, and Paul Rudd in a scene from "Friendship." (A24 via AP) Craig (Tim Robinson, at his awkward best) is instantly smitten — platonically — by Austin (Paul Rudd, at his charismatic best) and why would he not? The neighbor is everything Craig is not. Craig is like one of those loser characters in the Progressive Insurance commercials about not becoming your parents. 'It's a school night for me!' he'll announce when the party is just getting started. 'Might be nice to have a pal, a bud,' suggests Craig's wife, a wonderful Kate Mara, who is drifting away from her husband. His teenage son is, too. You would be as well if your dad ended a conversation with 'Stay curious!' Craig soon comes under Austin's spell — the pair smoking, going on an adventure to an aqueduct at night, looking at his collection of early human tools, foraging for mushrooms, some light boxing and singing along with his friends to an an impromptu a cappella version of 'My Boo' by Ghost Town DJ's. Craig falls hard, fantasizing about joining his neighbor's band and back slapping with his new band of brothers. 'You make me feel so free,' he confesses to his cool neighbor. But he doesn't have the skills to play it cool. As the kids today say, he has no rizz. DeYoung is at his best here, exploring the slippery notions of masculinity, both tender and muscular, and the difficulty of joining a circle of guys with their own idiosyncratic and iron laws. 'Friendship' shows Craig aping his man-crush and failing terribly — and bringing down the object of his bromance at the same time. It's as if Larry David remade 'Single White Female.' Most impressive is that DeYoung has not created a collection of connected 'SNL' skits. Each part cleverly feeds to another, with echoes throughout the script. If a muscle car is mentioned at the top, you'll know you'll find a muscle car by the end. Same with a lick or sliding doors. Winnipeg Free Press | Newsletter Winnipeg Jets Game Days On Winnipeg Jets game days, hockey writers Mike McIntyre and Ken Wiebe send news, notes and quotes from the morning skate, as well as injury updates and lineup decisions. Arrives a few hours prior to puck drop. Sign up for The Warm-Up DeYoung also has things to say about our commercial-saturated times, where even Craig's desperate attempt to get super high and escape his disintegrating life ends with a pedestrian hallucination where he just orders from a fast food joint. Craig orders his clothes from a catalogue bizarrely called 'Ocean View Dining' — 'The only brand of clothes that fit me just right,' he crows — and his adoration of Marvel shows a lowest-common denominator thinking. (The fact that the object of his love-jealousy is played by Ant-Man — a member of the Marvel Cinematic Universe — is a remarkable piece of kismet.) But there's also a feeling in the second half of the movie that DeYoung isn't sure how to end this slide into insanity and the movie gets unmoored from its satirical look at bromances and just follows Craig as a one man wrecking machine, like the movie was hijacked by Charlie Kaufman. Not to take anything away from DeYoung's debut, which is a hoot. Do us all a favor and see it with your buddies. And if you see a guy there all alone, maybe reach out? 'Friendship,' a A24 release that is in select theaters Friday and goes wider May 23, is rated R for 'language and some drug content.' Running time: 100 minutes. Three stars out of four.
Hindustan Times
07-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Hindustan Times
Movie Review: Dark bromance 'Friendship' hysterically explores modern men's awkward embrace
Craig Waterman is a suburban dad in middle age who favors extremely puffy jackets, yearns to see the new Marvel movie and is so uncool that he lobbies his town to have speed bumps installed. Naturally, he has no friends. Movie Review: Dark bromance 'Friendship' hysterically explores modern men's awkward embrace That changes one day when a misdirected package arrives in the mail and he trots off to hand deliver it to his new neighbor, Austin Carmichael, who has a '70s vibe — a mustache, soul patch and a neckerchief. He's a TV weatherman and fronts a punk band. Naturally, he has a tight group of male friends. So begins Andrew DeYoung's auspicious debut feature 'Friendship,' which tackles modern masculinity and male loneliness with biting satire and humor, taking detours into horror and the surreal. Craig is instantly smitten — platonically — by Austin and why would he not? The neighbor is everything Craig is not. Craig is like one of those loser characters in the Progressive Insurance commercials about not becoming your parents. 'It's a school night for me!' he'll announce when the party is just getting started. 'Might be nice to have a pal, a bud,' suggests Craig's wife, a wonderful Kate Mara, who is drifting away from her husband. His teenage son is, too. You would be as well if your dad ended a conversation with 'Stay curious!' Craig soon comes under Austin's spell — the pair smoking, going on an adventure to an aqueduct at night, looking at his collection of early human tools, foraging for mushrooms, some light boxing and singing along with his friends to an an impromptu a cappella version of 'My Boo' by Ghost Town DJ's. Craig falls hard, fantasizing about joining his neighbor's band and back slapping with his new band of brothers. 'You make me feel so free,' he confesses to his cool neighbor. But he doesn't have the skills to play it cool. As the kids today say, he has no rizz. DeYoung is at his best here, exploring the slippery notions of masculinity, both tender and muscular, and the difficulty of joining a circle of guys with their own idiosyncratic and iron laws. 'Friendship' shows Craig aping his man-crush and failing terribly — and bringing down the object of his bromance at the same time. It's as if Larry David remade 'Single White Female.' Most impressive is that DeYoung has not created a collection of connected 'SNL' skits. Each part cleverly feeds to another, with echoes throughout the script. If a muscle car is mentioned at the top, you'll know you'll find a muscle car by the end. Same with a lick or sliding doors. DeYoung also has things to say about our commercial-saturated times, where even Craig's desperate attempt to get super high and escape his disintegrating life ends with a pedestrian hallucination where he just orders from a fast food joint. Craig orders his clothes from a catalogue bizarrely called 'Ocean View Dining' — 'The only brand of clothes that fit me just right,' he crows — and his adoration of Marvel shows a lowest-common denominator thinking. But there's also a feeling in the second half of the movie that DeYoung isn't sure how to end this slide into insanity and the movie gets unmoored from its satirical look at bromances and just follows Craig as a one man wrecking machine, like the movie was hijacked by Charlie Kaufman. Not to take anything away from DeYoung's debut, which is a hoot. Do us all a favor and see it with your buddies. And if you see a guy there all alone, maybe reach out? 'Friendship,' a A24 release that is in select theaters Friday and goes wider May 23, is rated R for 'language and some drug content.' Running time: 100 minutes. Three stars out of four. This article was generated from an automated news agency feed without modifications to text.
Associated Press
07-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Associated Press
Movie Review: Dark bromance 'Friendship' hysterically explores modern men's awkward embrace
Craig Waterman is a suburban dad in middle age who favors extremely puffy jackets, yearns to see the new Marvel movie and is so uncool that he lobbies his town to have speed bumps installed. Naturally, he has no friends. That changes one day when a misdirected package arrives in the mail and he trots off to hand deliver it to his new neighbor, Austin Carmichael, who has a '70s vibe — a mustache, soul patch and a neckerchief. He's a TV weatherman and fronts a punk band. Naturally, he has a tight group of male friends. So begins Andrew DeYoung's auspicious debut feature 'Friendship,' which tackles modern masculinity and male loneliness with biting satire and humor, taking detours into horror and the surreal. Craig (Tim Robinson, at his awkward best) is instantly smitten — platonically — by Austin (Paul Rudd, at his charismatic best) and why would he not? The neighbor is everything Craig is not. Craig is like one of those loser characters in the Progressive Insurance commercials about not becoming your parents. 'It's a school night for me!' he'll announce when the party is just getting started. 'Might be nice to have a pal, a bud,' suggests Craig's wife, a wonderful Kate Mara, who is drifting away from her husband. His teenage son is, too. You would be as well if your dad ended a conversation with 'Stay curious!' Craig soon comes under Austin's spell — the pair smoking, going on an adventure to an aqueduct at night, looking at his collection of early human tools, foraging for mushrooms, some light boxing and singing along with his friends to an an impromptu a cappella version of 'My Boo' by Ghost Town DJ's. Craig falls hard, fantasizing about joining his neighbor's band and back slapping with his new band of brothers. 'You make me feel so free,' he confesses to his cool neighbor. But he doesn't have the skills to play it cool. As the kids today say, he has no rizz. DeYoung is at his best here, exploring the slippery notions of masculinity, both tender and muscular, and the difficulty of joining a circle of guys with their own idiosyncratic and iron laws. 'Friendship' shows Craig aping his man-crush and failing terribly — and bringing down the object of his bromance at the same time. It's as if Larry David remade 'Single White Female.' Most impressive is that DeYoung has not created a collection of connected 'SNL' skits. Each part cleverly feeds to another, with echoes throughout the script. If a muscle car is mentioned at the top, you'll know you'll find a muscle car by the end. Same with a lick or sliding doors. DeYoung also has things to say about our commercial-saturated times, where even Craig's desperate attempt to get super high and escape his disintegrating life ends with a pedestrian hallucination where he just orders from a fast food joint. Craig orders his clothes from a catalogue bizarrely called 'Ocean View Dining' — 'The only brand of clothes that fit me just right,' he crows — and his adoration of Marvel shows a lowest-common denominator thinking. (The fact that the object of his love-jealousy is played by Ant-Man — a member of the Marvel Cinematic Universe — is a remarkable piece of kismet.) But there's also a feeling in the second half of the movie that DeYoung isn't sure how to end this slide into insanity and the movie gets unmoored from its satirical look at bromances and just follows Craig as a one man wrecking machine, like the movie was hijacked by Charlie Kaufman. Not to take anything away from DeYoung's debut, which is a hoot. Do us all a favor and see it with your buddies. And if you see a guy there all alone, maybe reach out? 'Friendship,' a A24 release that is in select theaters Friday and goes wider May 23, is rated R for 'language and some drug content.' Running time: 100 minutes. Three stars out of four.
